


Ninth

by isitandwonder



Series: Sherlock Advent Calendar [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Shopping, M/M, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:45:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You call it lavishness, I call it generosity.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ninth

„We pay her rent, John. Don't you think that's enough? I really don't understand...”

But John cut Sherlock off. He'd been exposed to Sherlock's rant about the capitalistic erosion of Christmas for the last half hour and was by now genuinely fed up.

“She's not just our landlady, Sherlock. So, once a year, even you can get off your high horse and be nice to her.”

“I'm always nice to her. I'm actually the epitome of courtesy towards Mrs Hudson.”

John just snorted. “You mean when you shoot her walls...?”

“That was just once! God, John, why are you so vindictive? It's rather pedestrian. Despite, I paid for it.”

“No, I paid for it, as I'm the one with the steady income, remember?”

Sherlock huffed sulkily. “If you are paying anyway, where's the point in me accompanying you on this shopping spree?”

“It's Christmas shopping. It's more fun if we do it together.”

“Fun?” Sherlock echoed sarcastically as he slowly did a 360 degree spin. They were at John Lewis's. John had insisted on going somewhere traditional. The place was packed: Enervated mothers, screaming children, listless husbands, clueless couples, all scrambling around already ransacked counters, pushing past one another down the crowded aisles and, after picking something they didn't like and nobody needed, queued endlessly to hand a ridiculous amount of money over to struggling shop assistants just to soothe their conscience with buying something – anything – for their allegedly loved ones. Above all this jostle a children’s choir sang ever the same carols and Sherlock swore to himself if he had to listen once more to “Little Drummer Boy” he'd do something fairly inappropriate to one of the displays of cuddly toys that would get him barred from the department store for life.

But John wasn't in the mood for an argument about the season's amenities. “Besides, she'd be pleased if we give her something we've chosen together.”

“Ok, here.” With that, Sherlock grabbed the next best thing and shoved it onto John, who looked down bewildered: “What's she supposed to do with a 9 iron?”

“Fend off intruders. Now, let's go.”

“That's not how this is supposed to work. You know, it's not about the money spent, it's about the intention, it's about caring and pondering what somebody else might like. It's about giving out of a spirit of generosity. We'll have a look around first and then decide on something we both like and think will appeal to her.”

“What could that possibly be?”

“You're the genius. Use your imagination.”

With that, John wandered off and left Sherlock to his own devices.

\------------------------------------------------

They met again some 15 minutes later. John was admiring some Pashmina scarves in various shades of purple when he sensed Sherlock's looming presence behind himself.

“What do you reckon...” he asked as he turned around, holding two soft shawls in his hand but then paused as he noticed the three white paper gift bags Sherlock was carrying. “You shouldn't have bought anything without asking me about it first. We talked about this. We were supposed to choose something together.”

Sherlock blinked a few times before slowly admitting: “But these… aren't for Mrs. Hudson.” He sounded actually a bit embarrassed.

“Oh,” was all John could come up with.

“I don't think she'd much appreciate acid free gun oil, a MacBook and a Fred Perry shirt.”

“Um, probably not.”

“But she might like one of these.” Sherlock carried on, avoiding John's gaze while pointing at the scarves dangling from John's hands. “We'll take the cerise one.”

“Sorry, which one?” John asked absent-mindedly.

“The left one.” Sherlock clarified as if talking to a slightly dim-witted eight-year old.

“Yes… yes, of course. That'll suit her.” John fell silent for a moment while untangling the scarf from its hanger. But then he simply couldn't hold back: “Honestly, though, a MacBook... that's just ridiculous! You can't possibly...”

“Why not? You said this was about giving somebody a treat and that money shouldn't matter.”

“Yes, but that was meant as a reference to modesty, not lavishness.”

“You call it lavishness, I call it generosity.”

“Despite, your brother surely already owns one.”

“My brother?” Sherlock looked taken aback.

“Of course. Whom else would you buy such a fancy gadget for?”

Sherlock couldn't suppress a smile. John had been right, this was actually very amusing.

“To quote your favourite TV-show: Spoilers! Now, let's find a cashier as far away as possible from the soft toys. They are playing 'Little Drummer Boy' again.”


End file.
